


one more sunset

by technorat



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Canon Divergence - Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Canon-Typical Violence, Fix-It, Fix-It of Sorts, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Not Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) Compliant, References to Norse Religion & Lore, Temporary Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-04
Updated: 2019-11-04
Packaged: 2021-01-23 04:43:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21314395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/technorat/pseuds/technorat
Summary: Loki has had experience dying--he has accepted the fact that he will die by Thanos's hand. When Thanos arrives on the Statesman, he kills Thor instead.Loki and Valkyrie join the Avengers as they try to figure out a way to bring back those that they lost.Or, an Infinity War AU.
Relationships: Loki & Thor (Marvel)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 151
Collections: Marvel Big Bang 2019





	one more sunset

**Author's Note:**

> I'm happy to share our Marvel Big Bang fic! I hope you enjoy!
> 
> Here are the links to the pretty art:  
https://archiveofourown.org/works/21309508  
https://amberdreams.livejournal.com/626041.html
> 
> Warnings: temporary character death, temporary major character death, canon typical violence

“Undying.” Thanos pauses, looking down upon him. “You should choose your words more carefully.”

Loki trembles, skin itching beneath the compulsion of the Power Stone. This is it, he thinks. This is the end. He had wriggled his way out of death’s clutches twice before. It seems that the third time is the charm.

“But I suspect that dying is what you really wanted,” Thanos says. With that, he lifts the hold of the Power Stone.

Loki collapses to the ground, boneless. He can feel where the bruises will come in.

“What was it that the Other told you?” Thanos says. He walks slowly, steps coming down softly amongst the bodies of the Asgardians. “Ah yes, I remember. If you fail, there will be no realm, no barren moon, no crevice where I can’t find you. I will make you long for something as sweet as pain.” Thanos pauses, beside the kneeling, bound Thor, whose single eye is wide with surprise.

He had never told Thor everything. It seems like one final betrayal.

Thanos’s gauntleted hand wraps itself around Thor’s head, once again. “Let’s have it then.”

A wet, sickening _pop_ and nothing more.

The Mighty Thor is now mere legend.

“No!” He cannot stop himself from yelling. He does not feel it, does not realize it as he summons knife after knife endlessly hurtling them Thanos’s way.

They’re shattered, cast aside. Some reach their mark, sinking into tarnished armor.

Thanos seizes him by the neck.

_Good, _he thinks feverishly. _There is no Loki without Thor, no Thor without Loki. Let him end it. Let him end it all._

“Live,” Thanos commands him, all while choking him. “Live and regret that you failed me.” He lets go, laughing when Loki falls upon the rumpled form of his brother.

Only then do Thanos and his children leave the smoldering remains of the Statesman and all of the Asgardians they had slaughtered.

*

He does not know how long he lies there, holding onto Thor’s cape for dear life. He only knows when he has company.

“Gamora,” he finds himself sneering, blood between his teeth. “Has Thanos decided that I have not suffered enough?”

She frowns, and turns away from him. She’s not alone, either. A Midgardian, a Mutate, a woman whose empathetic powers already annoyed him, a raccoon, and a sapling Flora colossus stare down at him in obvious surprise.

“You know him?” the Midgardian says.

Gamora pinches the bridge of her nose and lets out an exasperated sound. “He fell to Titan and Thanos—” _oh,_ how she spits the name out with delightful hatred, “—thought he would be useful.”

Loki sits up. All around him are dead Asgardians. Thor has grown so very cold. “They need burials,” he tells Gamora. “Proper ones.”

“No offense buddy,” says the raccoon and, well, isn’t that a surprise? It may as well happen, with all that has already occurred that day. Besides, he cannot say his own children weren’t as full of surprises. “But this ship has been drifting for a while now. And if Scrapers aren’t already collecting whatever they can, then they will soon.”

Loki shakes his head. “I cannot let them stay here to be stolen from,” he says bitterly. He cannot let these bodies be any more desecrated than they already were, slaughtered like pigs at Thanos’s hand.

The Mutate places a hand on his shoulder. “I will help you,” he says. “I know what it’s like to lose everything.”

The others help, grudgingly, to gather all the bodies—_how it pains him to call them that_—and place them in neat rows. Loki comes to stand before them. He was no savior. He could not save even one man. He had taken Thor’s cape from him and wrapped it around his shoulders because Thor did not have enough hair to braid into Loki’s. He had instead cut a lock of hair from Heimdall and braided it into his own hair, desperate to feel a connection to a man who had hardly even _liked_ him.

Loki lifts a hand and calls forth a flame, ignoring at how the Midgardian jumps at that.

The bodies burn quickly, but he will never forget the awful stench. The ashes are golden, glittering, as they scatter through the vacuum of space, presumably off to Valhalla, despite their deaths being anything but honorable.

He refuses to think of the slaughter as _honorable._

He takes a breath and wipes his face before turning to his newfound allies with a brilliant smile that does not reach his eyes. “I do believe introductions are in order.”

*

They give Loki a bowl of soup once they return to their ship, surely one that served for trouble, but considering the two ships he had commandeered lately had been used for orgies, he could not comment. He sips from the bowl. The weak broth tastes amazingly to him.

Gamora paces the length of her own ship. “Thanos seeks to bring balance to the Universe by wiping out half of all life. He used to kill people planet by planet, massacre by massacre—”

“Including my own,” Drax says.

“If he gets all six of the Infinity Stones, then he can do it with the snap of his fingers.” Gamora snaps her fingers to demonstrate. “Just like that.”

“Half of all life,” Loki drawls. “Including animals and plants?”

No one answers, which is a pity.

“If he gets rid of half of all life, then nothing is balanced. Everything would remain the same,” he says.

“I’m glad one of us studied agriculture, apparently,” Peter Quill snaps, uncaring of just how close he gets to Loki. “You don’t seem too alarmed by this.” He is all too expressive and loud. Irritating.

“It must be shock,” Mantis says.

Loki disappears the bowl and spoon and stands, looming above the intrusive, invasive Quill. “I need a weapon,” he says.

Thor had Mjolnir. Odin had Gungnir. Hela had countless blades that she created and destroyed.

He would need something for himself. Something to slay the mad Titan.

“Did you just steal our bowl?” Quill asks.

“We need to find out where Thanos is going next,” Gamora says.

“Simple. He’ll be setting course for Knowhere.” Loki runs his fingers over a pod’s console. He could walk through the secret paths of the Universe, but there is a chance—a strong chance—that he has not yet regained the strength to do so.

“Are you stealing our pod now?” Quill accuses.

“That’s a bit of an exaggeration. I was hoping to borrow it,” Loki says, giving a charming smile. It likely doesn’t work with how caked in grime and blood he is.

“Thanos must be going somewhere,” Mantis says, ignoring Quill. For the best. He thinks he likes her, if only her powers were not so annoying, prickling against his skin.

“Knowhere? That’s a place. We’ve been there. It sucks.” Quill sticks to his theatrics, gesturing broadly in an enclosed space.

“Loki… why would Thanos go to Knowhere?” Gamora asks. Fear is barely hidden behind the facade of her calm.

“There are six Stones. He has acquired the Power Stone from Xandar. And…” Loki looks down, barely holding back a snarl. “He has taken the Space Stone from the Asgardians. The Time and Mind stones are kept on Earth, presumably protected by the Avengers and the wizard. The Reality Stone is the furthest, being kept by the Collector.” He pauses, looking up at Gamora. “And no one has any clue where the Soul Stone might be.”

It’s her turn to be uncomfortable.

“The Avengers?” Quill asks.

Loki rolls his eyes. “They call themselves Earth’s Mightiest Heroes.”

“That’s presumptuous,” Drax says, despite being a member of the Guardians of the Galaxy. He does not point this out.

“And wait. You’re telling me that Earth has wizards?” Quill says. “How come all the fun stuff starts happening when I’m not there?”

“Well, the wizards are presumptuous as well and even lectured us on magic,” Loki says with a huff. Him alone. Not us. Thor is dead. He winces. “And I hear the wizards were around for several hundred years. You just didn’t hear about them.”

Quill opens and closes his mouth like a fish.

“Is Kevin Bacon on the team?” Mantis asks.

Loki pauses again, brows furrowed low. “He may be on the team. I haven’t checked in on them in years.”

Gamora holds her head in her hands. “We have to go to Knowhere.”

“_You_ must,” Loki says. “But I must go to Nidavellir.”

“That’s a made up word!” Drax accuses, pointing at him.

Loki knocks the hand away, opening the pod with a wave of his hand. “All words are made up,” he says lightly.

“Hold up,” the raccoon says, clambering onto a table. “Nidavellir is real? That place is a legend. They make the most powerful, horrific weapons to ever torment the Universe. I would very much like to go there. Please.”

Quill puts a hand over Rocket’s face. “Look. This is my ship and we’re not going to—” He pauses, clearly having forgotten Nidavellir’s name. “What sort of weapon do you even need?”

“The Thanos killing sort,” Loki says, lips quirking into a smile. “King Eitri of the Dwarves is the most skillful craftsman in the Nine Realms. Last time we met, he sewed my mouth shut.”

Quill’s brows raise up to his hairline. “He did what now?”

“Why did he do that?” Drax says. “It serves no purpose.”

“Well,” Loki says. “I was a precocious, chattering child who talked him into a bet. I lost.”

“And why didn’t you just—” Quill wiggles his fingers in what Loki assumes is Quill’s mimicking of magic.

“My brother held me down to ensure that I would not break my promise,” Loki says with a smile. Such fond memories of youth. He could weep over them. He would relive that day over and over again to have Thor at his side once again.

“Your dead brother,” Quill says.

“I’m not aware if I have any others, but perhaps my adoptive father is hiding another secret child. I would not put it past him.”

“We have two ships and lots of morons. Me and Groot will go with greasy magic hands here and the rest of you go to Knowhere and try to stop Thanos,” Rocket says, ignoring his statement.

Loki lifts a hand, summoning a raven. “Find the Valkyrie. Tell her to meet atNidavellir. Tell her… the worst outcome is less awful by comparison to what had really occurred.”

It flies off, through the metal of the ship as if it had never been there to start with.

*

Nidavellir is dark. The three rings that surround it have gone still, frost coating the surface. Rocket steers the pod through the machinery. “I sure hope the dwarves are better at making weapons than they are at cleaning. Maybe they realized that they live in a junk pile in the middle of space.”

The sapling has found its spot beside Loki, having momentarily put down his entertainment system.

When Rocket settles them inside of Nidavellir, Loki is the first to leave the pod. The inside of the space station is as deserted as the out.

“The forge has not gone dark in centuries,” he mutters.

There, upon a pedestal, lies a gauntlet with six depressions. The metal shines, freshly polished.

“You said Thanos had a gauntlet. Did it look like that?” Rocket asks.

It looks exactly like the one Thanos wore when he killed Thor.

It can only mean one thing.

Loki swallows, wetting his lips. “We need to leave.”

“I am Groot,” Groot says uneasily. The sounds from his game console warble and whine dangerously now that his attention is away from it.

“Hurry,” Loki says, putting a hand on the sapling’s shoulders and physically turning him around.

A massive figure lumbers from the shadows. Loki freezes, throwing a shield up over the three of them. Rocket pulls out an absurdly large gun and readies it.

It’s the green glow that illuminates the haggard face of Eitri instead of the mad Titan.

“Eitri?” he says.

“Prince Loki.” Eitri is unshaven, his eyes lost and sunken. He is a man haunted by his deeds. Loki can see such a look in his eyes. “You were supposed to protect us. Asgard was supposed to protect us.”

“Asgard is destroyed,” Loki chokes out.

Eitri wilts, the fight having gone out of him, and collapses to his knees. He bows his head, hair obscuring his eyes.

“Eitri, what happened? We saw the gauntlet,” Loki says.

Rocket inches the gun closer. Loki puts a hand atop it and lowers it.

“Three hundred dwarves lived on this ring,” Eitri says miserably. “I thought if I did what he asked, they’d be safe. A device capable of harnessing the power of the stones. Then he killed them all, save for me.” He holds up his hands, encased in metal. “He said that my hands would be his alone.”

“Thanos killed the Asgardians like they were cattle,” Loki says. “There is a ship full of survivors. Mostly families and craftsmen.”

“Why are you telling me this?” Eitri asks. “Where is Odin? Thor?”

“Odin died,” Loki says, adding “of natural causes,” when he sees Eitri’s horrorstricken face.

“And Thor? Where is he? Surely he would laugh, to be reunited in this way,” Eitri says. “When you two were merely boys, you gave me such terrible troubles.”

Loki smiles tightly. “I’m not done giving you troubles, it seems.”

“Loki, where is Thor?” Eitri asks again. “Where is Thor?”

He cannot bring himself to answer, not when he himself wants this all to be some terrible nightmare. “I come before you, seeking a weapon to avenge the death of Thor and the many Asgardians like him. I come before you, seeking a place for the surviving, noncombatant Asgardians to stay and to rest while I do so.”

“Oh Loki,” Eitri says. Again he holds up his hands.

“All that you’ve ever created, you’ve created with your mind,” Loki says. He reaches out, taking Eitri’s mangled hands into his own. “And… I may not be the greatest healer, but perhaps I can create a workable solution.”

There is fire alight in Eitri’s eyes yet again. “Do it,” he says.

*

“There is a sword I had in mind for you,” Eitri says. His hands, though still encased in metal, are five-fingered and flexible now, the best that he could do. The mold looks no different than the mold for any other sword. “Odin Allfather, may he be victorious in Valhalla, did not have it commissioned by the end of his days.”

Loki rolls his eyes. Of course he didn’t.

“Part of that may be due to the special nature what it will consist of.”

“Now what sort of crazy metals we talking about here?” Rocket pipes. He practically vibrates with excitement being in the birthplace of thousands of years of weaponry. “Uru, vibranium—”

“The powers of journeys, of endurance, of secrets, of new beginnings, and—” Eitri pauses here, “—of brotherhood.”

“Are you kidding me?” Rocket says, looking between Eitri and Loki. “You’re both pulling my leg, aren’t ya? Oh, I don’t like that face.”

“I am Groot,” Groot provides, so helpfully.

“Take from me what you need,” Loki says dryly.

“It will hurt,” Eitri warns.

Loki chuckles. “What doesn’t?”

He takes journeys first—years of running from Asgard and exploring the secret paths, seeing all the realms, the taste of honeycakes (stolen, of course) and forest berries. It’s a bright, tinkling blue.

Then comes endurance. It’s vivid purple, gnarled, and difficult. He grits his teeth so hard that they must crack, shatter. It’s the years of hard training to be a warrior, to learn the ways of magic, the bitterness of always being in Thor’s shadow. It’s being caught in Thanos’s clutches, it’s being lain into, it’s sharp needles and invasions, and endless pain.

Then comes secrets, this more easily. It’s golden and glimmering, shimmering in the air like tulle. It’s laughing along with Frigga, it’s stealing books of magic in Vanaheim, it’s hassling dragons and cheating them of the hoards, it’s lies and half-truths that spill from his mouth whenever he opens it.

Then comes new beginnings: every color in existence, bright against his eye. This one is trickier, fighting Eitri even as he pulls it from Loki’s body.

“Brotherhood is last, yes?” Loki says, slumping down on the floor. Already he feels ill and lightheaded. He pulls Thor’s tattered cape closer, though what comfort it could truly provide is a mere hypothetical.

“Yes.” Eitri bends and plucks a single strand from Thor’s cape and places it with the rest in the container.

Rocket looks at it doubtfully. “No offense, but will a sword really do the job? It’s just a slightly longer knife and that didn’t go so well the first time, apparently.”

“This sword will possess in it the magic of truth,” Eitri says.

“A sword of truth for the god of lies?” Loki muses. “How bold.”

“Does it at least have a name?” Rocket asks.

“Gram.”

“That’s a bit underwhelming.”

“What now? How do we make it?” Loki asks.

“We must restart the forge,” Eitri says. “Awaken the heart of a dying star.”

“And how are we supposed to do that?” Rocket demands sharply, gesturing wildly. It’s inappropriately funny to him suddenly, which is rather worrisome.

“I am Groot,” Groot agrees.

Loki raises a hand. “I shall endeavor to hold it open, but I know not how long I can last.”

“You’ll hold it open,” Rocket repeats. “Buddy, we’re inside and that thing is a lot bigger than the both of us.”

Already he is tired, but Thanos must be dealt with. Th— his brother must be avenged.

A green glow emanates from his hand as he holds open the dying star. The impossible may become possible through magic, but it comes with a cost. Slowly, the colors fade from his vision. This is of little consequence. Better for him not to see the blood caked on his hands, dried beneath his nails.

Rocket yelps, but he hears it as if it is far, far away.

The rings spin free, a high pitched humming settling between Loki’s ears. The star is singing, light traveling through the rings and into the forge, where Eitri is at work.

“That is Nidavellir,” Loki murmurs.

Rocket takes it in, letting out a low whistle. “It’s beautiful.”

Until it breaks.

A damaged mechanism snaps. Loki feels it as if it is his own limb. His hand drops, limp. The iris shuts and the light stops its work.

“Dammit!” Eitri yells. “With it closed, I cannot heat the materials!”

Loki sighs and rises to his feet. “I will do it again,” he says, wiping wet warmth from beneath his nose. “I will hold it open.”

“You’re _bleeding_,” Rocket says.

“That is of little consequence,” Loki dismisses.

“Buddy, I don’t know how this magic business works, but this sounds an awful like suicide,” Rocket yells. Groot stands beside him, staring with wide eyes.

“Facing the Mad Titan without this sword will be suicide,” Loki corrects.

Rocket sputters indignantly.

“Allfathers, give me strength,” Loki says. “Allmothers, give me strength.”

“What are you doing?” Eitri demands.

With one step, Loki leaves the space station in favor of space itself.

With another, multiple Loki’s peel away, going to stand around the star itself. He holds out his hands, all of them, and forces the mechanism open.

“Boy, you’ll take the full force of the star! It will kill you!” Eitri’s words only half-reach him, coming from far away.

Loki laughs. “I’ve already been dead. It wasn’t too terrible of an experience.”

The levers stay down, gold and green shimmering around the star. The stellar energy begins flowing once again. His vision tunnels until the sun is all that he can see.

It burns, burns worse than the flames of Ragnarok. He holds steady.

He holds steady.

He holds steady, his hands trembling.

He holds steady until he isn’t and then he is falling, falling, falling all over again, crashing once again into the Mad Titan’s hands.

*

_The forests of Alfheim were lush, lovely, and so very deep. Thor pushed through the undergrowth like it was nothing, irritated even by the vines and the flowers. He grumbled lowly._

_"I thought we were to see the candy farmers," Thor said._

_Loki hummed. "Yes, later. But first we must find a unicorn."_

_Thor scoffed. "What's so special about them?" he said tiredly. "They're just horses with an extra bit attached to them. You can bespell some wretched horse on Asgard. We can't find candy farmers anywhere but Alfheim."_

_It took all of his patience into not hexing Thor there and then. _

_"Thor," Loki said. "That isn't the same and you know it."_

_He had been sent to Alfheim a decade ago. He had not had been given the chance to study the local fauna and flora to his heart's content, so he had to make up for it now. With Thor, of course, so that if they ran into danger, there was less of a chance for the danger to target Loki himself._

_It was a good plan, one of his very best._

_Thor was quiet for a while as they followed a murmuring stream. The stones that line its surface are tinged purple, iridescent. _

_But it was Thor and Thor could never be quiet for long._

_"Brother," Thor started, very carefully._

_"Yes?"_

_"What made you wish to study seidr instead of the sword, or some other more practical weapon?" Thor asked very slowly, as if he thought the speed of his speech was what angered Loki instead of the content._

_"I study both and you know that," Loki muttered. _

_But he could not explain why magic came easily to him. Naturally. How his skin sometimes felt like it was stretched over something too large. Shapeshifting was supposed to be a difficult art. But there were forms he could slip into with hardly a thought._

_"Yes, well," Thor said, "I just cannot understand why you're interested in unicorns now. A little bit on the ergi side, brother."_

_Loki could not even bring himself to explain to Thor just why he had wanted to study unicorns. Or that ergi might be too close an insult to bear._

*

When he wakes, he is sprawled ungracefully on the floor of the space station, holding onto the sword so tightly that his knuckles grow white.

Valkyrie stares down at him, brows raised, unspeakably disappointed. “Are you done napping, your Majesty?”

Loki stands and tests the weight of the blade. “For now,” he says. “How is the rest of Asgard?”

The blade feels like nothing else—as light as air and yet just _radiating_ magic. A part of him and yet something unique. He wonders, for a brief, horrible moment, if this is how Thor had felt with his hammer. Powerful, unstoppable, _worthy._

Behind her stand the surviving Asgardians: dirty, frightened, pitiful.

But among them are a few warriors, grieving terribly. He would not deny them vengeance.

“Who will join me in battle on Midgard?” he asks.

A surprising amount of them step forwards, armed with weapons of Eitri. Farmers. Craftsmen. Those of Asgard with training, but no experience.

“Oh, and one last thing,” Loki says. He casts a glamour over himself, so that he might look like Thor, the last time the Avengers saw him. Gram similarly becomes the Mighty Thor’s hammer.

How funny that the sword of truth could lie.

Valkyrie eyes him strangely. “You didn’t kill him, right?”

Loki smiles sharply and it must look out of place on Thor’s face. “I might as well have.”

“We’ll deal with your baggage later,” says Rocket, patting the back of his knee. He has a shiny new gun, curtesy of the dwarf king. “Mid-whatever now.”

He cuts open the air with Gram and steps onto Midgard beyond.

*

_What would Thor do?_ Loki asks himself, feet upon unfamiliar ground.

_Ah, yes_, he thinks, launching himself into the air and raining green lightning and fire below at the Outriders.

He lands, taking several heavy steps, not understanding just how Thor does— did the things he did. “Bring me Thanos!” Loki yells, charging forwards, the might of Asgard behind him.

He fights and he fights, electricity buzzing around him. It isn’t his inherent magic, but an element he had studied. And it is draining. But he must keep up the facade, must not let the Avengers know—

They’d never trust him, somewhat understandably.

They’d never forgive him.

“Thor?” the Captain says, in between punching the aliens. It seems as though is previous shield was not small enough, as he bears two smaller ones, one on each arm. He looks different, more weary. And he’s grown a beard. His backside is still delightful. “Bruce made us fear the worst.”

Loki gives a grin, one that does not remotely resemble Thor’s at all. He doesn’t answer—he can’t. So Bruce still lived.

He can’t help but wish, in the moment, that Thor had lived instead.

Groot gives a mighty shout and spears several Outriders with his arm. He shakes them about violently.

“Is that… a friend of yours?” Rogers asks.

“You could say so,” Loki says.

“I am Groot.”

“I… I am Steve Rogers,” Rogers says uncertainly before throwing himself back to battle.

There is a large commotion and suddenly another magic user is on the field. Red sparks at her fingers as she and two other women fight Proxima Midnight.

Loki swallows back bile for me reason than one.

The Mind Stone is strutting about the field, unprotected. Corvus Glaive seems to be getting the better of its vessel.

“Bor’s beard,” Loki mutters under his breath. “Must I do everything?”

Rogers looks at him strangely, but doesn’t say anything as Loki takes a running leap. He may not be able to fly, but with the seven-league boots he crosses the field in several long strides.

It seems that Cull Obsidian has joined in on the fun as both children of Thanos beat the Mind Stone’s vessel. He rains down fire upon them, grinning as both of them screech.

“This isn’t going to be like New York, pal!” Bruce yells from the inside of one of Stark’s machines, though he seems to be missing an arm. “This suit’s already kicked the crap out of— Thor! Oh god, Thor, you’re okay. Where’s Loki? Heimdall? More importantly, how’d you grow your hair— Wait.”

Loki hesitates for a moment before smiling sadly. “I’m sorry Bruce.” He flicks his finger and sends Cull Obsidian up, up into the protective dome that surrounds the land. He goes up in sparks and Loki cannot help the thrill that goes through him.

Glaive narrows his eyes before he laughs. “Up to your tricks again?” He prods the vessel’s side, sending it down into the ground with a terrible groan.

Loki rolls his eyes, dropping the illusion. It didn’t matter anyway. Everyone gathered must have known. “No tricks,” he says. “We have a Captain.”

Glaive blinks just as Captain America bowls him over like an overeager dog. He uses the tiny shields to great effect, punching Glaive in a very satisfying way over and over again. “Get out of here! Go!” he yells.

Bruce goes to help the vessel up and Loki joins him.

“You’ve been damaged,” Loki says. The hurt energy spiraling from the vessel borders on uncomfortable. “I can try to heal you, at least so that you might function better.”

“Dude, he’s a person,” Bruce says, sounding genuinely upset.

“I was not aware just how to refer to him considering the Mind Stone is currently embedded in his forehead,” Loki snipes, more than a little stressed. They hobble along, barely walking as the vessel struggles under his of weight.

“My name is Vision,” the vessel says. “You can try.” If possible, he sounds wary.

Loki’s reputation precedes him evidently. He places a hand against Vision’s torso, undoing what damage has been done. “It isn’t a permanent fix,” he warns.

“It won’t have to be.” If anything, Vision’s eyes shine with determination.

“Loki,” says Bruce. “What happened after Heimdall sent me away? You look awful.”

“This really isn’t the time for it,” Loki says.

The woman from before, the one whose magic is so close to the energy possessed by the Mind Stone, lands and throws herself to Vision’s side. She runs her hand along his cheek. “Are you okay?”

Ah. Love.

How strange.

The air goes still.

“What is it?” asks the woman.

“He’s here,” Loki says.

The wind picks up, but something about it is wrong. He shudders and tucks away his sword. Everything is unnatural.

The good Captain joins their growing group, a hand placed against his ear. “Everyone, on my position. We have incoming—”

Black Widow and a host of unfamiliar faces join them shortly. They don’t appear to be too concerned about his own presence, horned helm and all.

“What the hell?” the Widow says under her breath.

All the hair on Loki’s neck rises. Blue-black clouds and mist form along the ground. From it comes the Mad Titan.

“Cap. That’s him,” Bruce says, sounding scared, sounding uncertain.

Even the Hulk had been frightened of Thanos.

Five gems are alight on Thanos’s gauntlet. The last one is so close, within his grasp.

“Eyes up, stay sharp,” orders the Captain.

It’s Bruce that reaches the Titan first, using his machine’s remaining fist. Thanos flicks him aside and then changes reality itself, so that Bruce is embedded within a rocky wall.

_What was he thinking?_

The man dressed in a cat suit is caught by the throat and slammed into the ground.

_He is a coward, a liar, a thief._

One man with wings shoots Thanos point blank. But his wings become rubber and he falls to the ground, flightless.

“Wanda,” says Vision, and that must be the witch’s name. “It’s time.”

“No,” she says, close to tears.

He cannot hear this. He pulls out Gram and charges forth with a shout.

_Lo, they do call to me. They bid me take my place among them, in the halls of Valhalla, where the brave may live forever!_

The Reality Stone lights up, but Gram cannot be changed so easily.

_Lo, there do I see my father._

The Captain tackles Thanos from behind, catching his head in a lock.

_Lo, there do I see my mother._

He stabs forth, shoving Gram through Thanos’s chest, just barely missing the Captain. “Tell the truth,” Loki sneers. “How did you acquire the Soul Stone?”

“I… sacrificed Gamora on Vormir,” Thanos grinds out, hating each and every moment.

He blinks rapidly, unable to accept that yet another person he knows is dead. He had spoken to her not long ago. He had _seen her _and had _sent her to her doom._ “Why did you sacrifice her?” Loki asks.

“To get the Soul Stone, you need to lose something you love,” Thanos says. He quivers all over, under the compulsion of Gram.

“Did you even love Gamora?” Loki can’t help but bark laughter in his face.

Thanos’s eyes—those cold, stupid, pitiless blue eyes—fill with tears of all things!

_Lo, there do I see my brother._

“You didn’t pay the toll the Stone asks for,” Loki says, cold tears trailing down his cheeks. “You made countless planets lose all they love, but you cannot. You don’t know what love even _is!”_

“Loki,” the Captain says, warning, but he cannot stop! Not now! Not when revenge is so close.

“You are mad,” Loki says, laughing, shoving the sword in deeper.

_Lo, there do I see the line of my people, back to the beginning._

“I lost everything!” Thanos says, tossing the Captain over his shoulder. He snatches Loki up, by the neck. “I see it was a mistake letting you live.”

He’s dropped the sword—_foolish, foolish—_and he cannot _breathe._

_But he cannot go to Valhalla. They do not welcome Jotuns._

He uncurls his fists and summons the Casket of Eternal Winters. Cold seeps into him and then out, blasting against Thanos. The Titan stumbles back.

The others—a man with a metal arm, a woman armed with a spear, Groot—join in on the attack. Thanos staggers to one knee.

Behind him, the Mind Stone shatters.

Loki gasps and turns around, finding Wanda holding onto Vision and sobbing.

But that distraction is enough.

Thanos bats those that rise against him like they’re little more than children’s toys. He changes reality and Loki feels himself uncoil into a million strands of thread.

“I understand, my child. Better than anyone,” Thanos coos as he walks closer to Wanda.

“You could never,” Wanda snarls.

Thanos strokes her hair with his bare hand. “Today, I lost more than you can know. But now is no time to morn. Now… is no time at all.”

The Time Stone alights on his hand and Loki curses the damned wizard twice over.

Vision returns, the Mind Stone ripe for the taking. Thanos plucks it from him and throws him away like he had not meant anything to anyone. Like he was rubbish.

“No!” Wanda screams as she leaps forwards, but she is bat aside painfully.

Valkyrie arrives, several warriors of Asgard behind her. She shouts, “For Asgard!” She’s quick, dodging his blows, and shoves his sword between his ribs.

Thanos shudders all over. “You should have… You…”

Loki gathers himself together, making himself whole again, and picks Gram up from the ground.

“You should have gone for the head,” Thanos says, raising the gauntlet and snapping his fingers.

“No!” Valkyrie shouts. “What the hell did you do?”

Loki joins her, running Gram through Thanos. “Tell the truth!” he barks, not caring. He is beyond the point of caring. “Do you even know what it is to love and to lose?”

Thanos laughs and disappears in a cloud of blue.

Loki falls to his knees, Valkyrie beside him. Her hair clings against her skull, eyes wide and afraid.

People vanish, turn into dust before their very eyes.

He waits and he waits and he waits, and yet he is still there, still whole, still beside the Valkyrie.

He doesn’t speak, he cannot. He feels as if he’s been turned to stone.

Valkyrie sighs and lowers her face. “I suppose that Asgard has been halved again,” she says, voice hoarse.

He blinks and blinks again.

“Lackey?”

He has let go of Gram and it sits on the ground, amongst the dirt, amongst the torn up body of Vision, amongst so much ash.

“Are you ignoring me now?”

There will not even be bodies to burn, to send off to Valhalla. That seems to be the worst offense.

He unfolds his hands. The Soul Stone sits heavy in his palm.

It starts screaming and he can’t stop.

*

_There was a time when Loki thought that he and Thor would never be separated. They had been young, barely warriors, and they had been terrible. _

_Thor had fallen on a battlefield, an axe embedded in his shoulder. He had been full of laughter, still, even as Loki had patched him._

_"You buffoon," Loki hissed. "What were you doing? You cannot be so reckless!"_

_Thor had placed a hand upon Loki's nape, a familiar gesture. "A man must have his scars!"_

_The Warriors Three and Lady Sif thought it funny, in Thor's own way._

_But seeing Thor fall in battle, his red cape fluttering and useless. He had thought the worst for a brief, awful moment._

_"I am no healer," Loki hissed._

_"That you aren't, brother. Your bedside manner is terrible." Thor laughed, which only served to bring more blood to the wound's surface._

_Loki had glowered but had not moved away. His hands were aglow with glimmering, healing magic, and he promised himsel to learn all the magic he could to better protect and help Thor._

_*_

They gather together all the survivors, ash coated and grieving, in the royal palace of Wakanda. A young girl, the princess apparently, and her mother greet them. Both women begin to weep when the king is not amongst them.

They fit in a single conference room.

Loki sits with Valkyrie and Rocket on either side of him.

Queen Shuri sits at the head of the table, too small for the weight upon her shoulders. “What do we do from here? The casualties are still growing.”

Introductions had gone… well, mostly.

They had been less concerned with the monster in their halls than Loki could have ever assumed. He had removed his helm and held it in his hands. He makes the horns smaller, less grand. He had not done enough to earn them. He is not the hero he had thought he would grow to be.

Loki wets his lips. “Are there… scientists amongst us?” he asks.

He cannot ask for magic users, not with the wizard surely dead and the witch gone to dust before his eyes.

“I’ve got seven phD’s,” Bruce says, which means very extraordinarily little to him.

“I am not sure if those will help in the endeavor I seek,” he admits.

“Well,” Rhodes says. “What is this big thing you’re hiding.”

Loki puts his helm before him on the table. He unfolds his hands and reveals the Soul Stone to them all.

“Huh, would you look at that,” Romanoff says. “How’d you manage that?”

“He’s got sticky fingers,” Valkyrie says, unflatteringly enough. “Dare I ask what else you’ve got hidden away in one of your pocket dimensions?”

“Just know that the treasure vault of Asgard remains safe,” Loki says, wryly enough.

“Is there anything we can do with that?” Shuri says, tilting her chin up. “Which one of the stones is it? Can I touch it?”

The Soul Stone does not leave Loki’s possession. It is still screaming. Her words stir some sense back into him. “Not many people can touch an Infinity Stone and remain alive,” he says. “So I do not advise that quite yet.” He tucks it away into a pocket dimension once again. “I believe… that Thanos has not killed the vanished and there is a chance we can return them to us..”

“We say them crumble to dust before our eyes,” the Widow says. “How can they be anything but dead?”

“I can hear them,” Loki says.

“Loki,” Bruce whispers far too loudly, “not exactly convincing of the whole _not_ cats-in-a-bag crazy.”

“How can we be sure?” The Captain eyes him uncertainly, but grief hangs over him like a shadow.

Loki and Valkyrie look to one another. “You’re not going to like this,” he says.

She laughs humorlessly. “When do I ever?”

*

It’s a small team they put together to visit Helheim.

Loki himself, Valkyrie, and Captain America, if things should go wrong, apparently.

Explaining Thor’s secret, and now deceased, sister had been one thing. Explaining how she is the goddess of death had been another.

Rogers had only looks to them doubtfully, lips twisted into half a smile. He still did not believe them about their godhood. He still clung to the idea of a benevolent god. How quaint. “Now how exactly are we going to… Helheim?” he asks.

Rocket snorts. “Just you see.”

Loki cuts open reality with Gram and steps on through. Valkyrie follows him without hesitation. Rogers is another story.

He pauses, a frown furrowed on his face. “This shouldn’t be possible.”

“You have no idea what is possible, Captain,” Loki says, a small smile on his face.

Helheim is dark, damp, and cold. He hardly feels any of it.

He leads them to the throne, past stumbling spirits whose eyes are as white as milk. Loki bows lowly, a hand upon his chest. “Queen Hela, of Helheim,” he says. “We come to ask you for a boon.”

“You really must be foolish or desperate to turn to me.”

She’s looked better, certainly, but now with half of her face burnt away to reveal the white of her skull below, she truly does fit her realm. Hela sprawls across her throne like a displeased cat.

Rogers looks from Loki to Hela to Loki again.

Valkyrie is stiff, hand upon the hilt of her sword, ready to try to slay Hela for a third time.

“I felt our brother die. Pity that he should end up in Valhalla. We would have such _fun _together,” Hela says, smile thin and sharp as a knife. It hurts being on the receiving end of such a blow. “So I suppose that must make you king. Strange, isn’t it? For a Jotun runt to take up the throne of Asgard.” Her smile grows more vicious. “Tell me, what was it like to rule for years while pretending to be Odin?”

“You did what?” Rogers whispers, his poor righteous heart horrified.

“Well, for starters, I do believe that the citizens must have figured out when I invested in the arts and infrastructure instead of spreading our armies across the Nine,” Loki says.

Hela openly rolls her eyes. “No wonder I killed them so easily.”

Loki shuts his eyes and takes a breath.

“About this boon,” Hela drawls out. “Would it have anything to do with a certain titan named Thanos?”

“You know him?” Rogers says.

“A murderous hag and mad bastard do make quite the couple,” Valkyrie says icily beneath her breath.

Hela laughs. It’s an unpleasant sound. “He’s obsessed with fixing the universe,” she says, “and yet he knows nothing of sustainability. A real class act. What do you want? I’ll grant you a single boon.”

“As goddess of death, you have ordinance over your domain,” Loki says. “Tell me, just how are you handling the influx of additions?”

Hela furrows her brow for a moment. “Those that Thanos vanished away are no guests of mine.”

“How can we trust you?” Valkyrie asks, jutting her chin up. She loathes even being in the same room as Hela, would very much like to shove a sword through her.

Loki holds up a hand and nods. “We thank you for your cooperation.”

“You asked for a boon,” Hela says, an obsidian sword appearing at her side. She points it at Loki. “You’ll get one. You won’t trick me into something later.”

Which, for Norns’ sake, was exactly what he had hoped to do.

Hela raises her flesh hand and from the darkness comes a trotting horse. He would recognize the sound of eight hooves anywhere.

Sleipnir, the great, big horse, whinnies and comes to Loki’s side. He practically barrels Loki over, pressing his face against Loki. He pats the horse’s head and scowls at Hela.

“We’ll take our leave then,” Loki says tightly, ignoring the strange looks both Rogers and Valkyrie send his way.

He cuts open reality and steps through, back to Wakanda.

Romanoff is where they had left her, behind a desk, poring through the reports that come in. Sleipnir whinnies and prances, probably happy to be alive again, silly thing. She looks up and makes a face. “Whatcha got there?” Romanoff asks.

He holds up Gram before tucking it away. “A sword.”

“The… horse,” Valkyrie says. “Why did she give you a horse? If anything, I could have used a pegasus.”

“Do all horses… from Asgard look like that?” Rogers asks hesitantly, ignoring the fact that pegasi exist.

“No, of course not,” Loki says. “He’s my son.”

“You fucked a horse?” Valkyrie sputters, caught off guard for once in her long life.

He smiles thinly. “Really, the horse fucked me.”

Rogers frowns and blinks several times, unsure what exactly to say to that, evidently. He finally decides to say nothing. Perhaps he has heard stranger.

“Congratulations,” Romanoff says dryly. “Did you find out what you meant to?”

“We have confirmed that those that vanished didn’t truly die,” Loki says. That’s good enough for him. Quietly, he’s well pleased that those unfortunates who had perished beneath Thanos’s hand aboard the Statesman were also out of Hela’s domain.

“And what exactly are we going to do now?” Romanoff asks.

“Assemble, it seems,” Loki says, tilting his head. “We are in need of a new gauntlet.”

*

_Thor had been amongst those to welcome him home when Loki returned, an energetic and squeeling Sleipnir at his side. The horse bore Loki's coloring, with dark hair and green eyes. _

_But Sleipnir had not been anything he would have expected._

_The eight legs were a curious sight._

_"Brother!" Thor yelled in greeting. He was red-cheeked with the cold of winter. He looked at Sleipnir curiously. "Where is this foal's mother? It is much too late in the year for her to give birth."_

_Loki simply looked at him. He was haggard, wearing the same clothes he had on when he had left, though now they were overlarge on his thin frame. "Say hello to your nephew, Thor."_

_He had been tired, exhausted with caring for both himself and his child, bone-weary with it. _

_He had hardly reacted when they took Sleipnir to be amongst his king while they brought Loki to the healers._

_It had been far too late when Loki realized that he was not sure where his son was or even how he was kept. _

_And then he had heard that his sweet Sleipnir was to be a warhorse._

_*_

It seems that many the Avengers had relied on were not around. Fury had vanished, leaving behind a device. A pager, Bruce had called it. That didn’t exactly clear anything up with him.

“Wonder what exactly it’s supposed to do,” Bruce says, beneath his breath, even as he hooks it up to a power generator. They trust the random piece of technology enough, which is strange. “Or who it’s supposed to contact…”

He quite thought that he had taught them that random bits of technology can be dangerous the first time he had invaded.

But alas.

Pepper, Stark’s fiancé it seems, had called him as he had left the planet’s atmosphere. Stark remained missing, quite possibly dead.

There is a spider boy, apparently. He is also out of reach. Probably dead.

“And the wizard?” Loki says. “Has anyone talked to him?”

“What wizard?” Rogers says. “Are you… is that a reference to something?”

Loki raises his brows. “Why would I…?” He shakes his head.

“I think Tony went after the wizard,” Bruce says, scratching his head. “So I guess he won’t be around.”

Loki rolls his eyes. Of course not. And, with the Time Stone last seen on Thanos’s knuckle, it seems more likely than not that Doctor Strange is no more. “How about the rest of his little organization?”

They visit the New York Sanctum, dressed in their armors. Loki had received a strange look when he summoned his horned helm.

“Do you think that’s a good idea?” Bruce says, gesturing horns about his forehead.

“What’s wrong with the horns?” Valkyrie says. “Other than the fact it looks like he’s regretting them.”

Loki fingers the helm, with its shorter horns and his exposed scalp. He had thought it would be appropriate, considering that he could not even save one man.

Bruce sputters out a nervous laugh. “Well, you know, he did invade New York a little while back.”

“And then I went to New York with Th— my brother in search of our father,” Loki says. “Some girls took… a selfie with my brother and didn’t even seem to notice me. Besides, these horns are just an adornment at this point.”

Bruce shrugs, running his hand through his hair. “Yeah, I guess I’ve seen weirder.”

“New York,” Rogers says, raising his brows though he doesn’t sound quite so surprised.

Wong welcomes them in, unsurprised at the strange gathering.

“Hello Wong,” Bruce says, shaking his hand. “Can we come in?”

They sit at a great round table and Loki cannot help but raise his eyes at that. They kept a memento from Merlin. Interesting.

“Would tea suffice for you all?” Wong asks. He looks to Loki and says, “Thor refused tea and took beer instead. What would you rather?”

“Tea is fine,” Loki says, and when it appears before him he drinks deeply, fortifying himself for the conversation ahead.

“I haven’t seen Doctor Strange,” Bruce says. “Where’s he hiding?”

Wong’s expression doesn’t change, but he does hesitate before speaking. “Stephen is not on Earth,” he says.

“Well that doesn’t narrow it by much,” Romanoff says, lips twisted in a wry smile. “Got any clues?”

Wong shakes his head.

A pity.

“Have you anything that belonged to him, then?” Loki asks. “Perhaps I can trace his signature.”

Wong looks at him oddly but eventually returns with one of Strange’s tunics. Dirty laundry. “Will this work?” he asks.

Loki hums, and drops it into a pocket dimension.

*

“Admittedly, it’s been a while since I came to Midgard to explore and learn,” Loki tells the Avengers on the ride back to Wakanda.

“Define a while,” Rogers says.

“Not counting the little failed invasion,” Loki says, tilting his head and looking out the window, at the grey clouds amongst them. How he wished it would thunder and rain. “I’d say… sometime in the late 1800s?”

“I forget how old you guys are,” Bruce says with a sigh.

“Who exactly is in charge of Midgard then?”

“Not exactly one person,” Rogers says. “There’s a lot of countries.”

“How many would that be?” It couldn’t be more than two or three. He very much remembered the fuss that came with America’s declaration of freedom though not all its people were free themselves.

“One hundred ninety-seven,” Romanoff supplies.

Loki wrings his hands. That is… significantly more than he thought possible.

“Really?” Valkyrie says. “That can’t be true. Your planet is too small for such divisions.”

Romanoff smiles slyly. “Well, believe it or not, that’s the truth.”

The calm is shattered when they exit the quinjet and rejoin their comrades in Wakanda. The weight of those lost is heavy.

Valkyrie and Loki travel from Midgard to Nidavellir.

The people are afraid, yet again, having suffered such tremendous loss. He can do little but hear their grievances, hear their complaints, hear their suffering.

They eat a small meal together, Eitri sat at one end of a table and Loki at the other. That all of Asgard can sit at a single table, although long, is shocking.

It is the worst possible reminder of their losses.

He rises to his feet and excuses himself from the table, having hardly eaten his foot. He cannot stomach it.

*

There is a man waiting for him when he and Valkyrie return to Midgard.

He is red faced and white haired. He gives no introduction before he sets himself to barking. “You have some nerve being here after all you’ve done.”

“Excuse me,” Loki says. “Am I supposed to know who you are?”

If possible, the man grows redder.

Valkyrie slips her sword from her sheath. “Shall I end him, your Majesty?” she asks, words dripping venom.

Loki puts a hand atop hers. “I think it would be rather rude to kill an unarmed man.”

Valkyrie rolls her eyes.

It’s Rogers who steps between them, his arms folded over his chest. “General Ross,” he says. “Funny to see you here.”

It’s Rhodes that intervenes, setting himself firmly between the Captain and the General and whatever strange game they play. It’s funny and Loki wonders if more and more Avengers would come and interfere in equally showman-like displays.

“I invited him, Steve,” Rhodes says. He shakes hands with Ross, even though it looks as though Ross loathes every moment. “We’ve got… how many refugees again?”

“A little over two thousand,” Loki supplies. He does not yet know if Eitri should like to join them, so far from where the rest of his people had perished.

“We’ve got two thousand refugees in need of a place to stay,” Rhodes continues, as smoothly as he had started.

Ross’s brows raise to his hairline. “The Accords—” he sputters out. “We are not taking in two thousand enhanced individuals after this.”

“General,” Loki says, smiling, “You call the Asgardians enhanced, but to us we are average individuals, just perhaps longer lived than most, though if you looked throughout the universe, I am sure you’d find those older than us. Most of our survivors are families, crafts people, artists. They pose no danger to your realm.”

Valkyrie rolls her eyes. “Why appeal to his good nature?” she asks conspiratorially. “Let’s just bring the Asgardians here and deal with it later.”

Ross sputters. “And who do you think you’re talking to, young lady?”

“Careful, General, the Valkyrie is an elite warrior, the last of her kind,” Loki says, itching to hide a smile behind his hands.

“I am four thousand seven hundred years old,” Valkyrie says, her smile wide and unkind. “I was around before you were even a twinkle in your father’s eye. I will be around thousands of years after you are gone too.”

This shuts Ross up.

And, rather, everyone else.

It’s later that Rogers approaches him. They overlook the setting sun of Wakanda. A beautiful sight.

He has never missed golden Asgard more.

“I know that Valkyrie is _that_ old and Thor was one thousand five hundred years old,” he starts, uncomfortable. “How old would that make you?”

“One thousand and seventy,” Loki says. He twists his lips into a wry smile. “I’m told you’re older than humans tend to get. And you aged fairly well, if I might say.”

Rogers shakes his head, unable to hide the flush that rises to his cheeks. “Thor grieved for you,” he says, and it sends a pang right through him. “When he thought you died. He would tell stories about the quests you guys went on as children. It was hard to imagine.”

“We will fix this,” Loki says, refusing to meet Rogers’s searching gaze.

“Your eyes are green,” Rogers says.

Loki stays silent.

“They were blue in New York.”

In 2012.

“My,” Loki says, bringing a hand to his chest. “Are you flirting with me, Captain?” He clucks his tongue. “There’s easier ways to find yourself in my bed than to flatter in such strange ways.”

“Loki,” Rogers says. And it’s terrible, just how _earnest_ he is. “I understand if you don’t want to talk about it but… just know a friend of mine went through something like that. I know what it’s like.”

He shakes his head and leaps out, into the secret paths.

*

He walks for ages and ages amongst the branches of Yggsdrasil. He stops to collect some twigs, tucking them away. Yggsdrasil is quiet. All around him the cosmos churns.

Only once his heart stops beating so loudly, so rapidly, does he return to Midgard.

Norway. Where Odin had seen fit to breathe his last.

Loki searches for a long time before he finds what he’s after. The crumbled remains of mjölnir are still warm, sparking with Thor’s ambient magic. He scoops them up from amongst the grass and steps through the world, until he is in Wakanda again.

Shuri is in her lab, fiddling with some device. She looks him up and down and says, “Careful, white boy. Bad things could have happened if I didn’t realize who you were.”

He snorts. “I have something for you.”

She holds out her hands expectedly and jolts in surprise when the remains of mjölnir are placed into them. “What is it?”

“Uru metal,” Loki says. “Specially made for Odin’s executioner by the king of the dwarves.”

Fury’s little device is still ticking, projecting an image of a star.

The Soul Stone nearby pulses with warm light. If he gets any closer to it, he does not know what he will do.

Shuri pauses. “Is this… Thor’s hammer?” she asks.

He can only give a small smile in reply.

Shuri plucks the largest chunk of the hammer and hands it back. Loki’s fingers curl up against it. “Keep it,” she says.

Loki turns around because he cannot have the girl see the grief well up in his eyes.

“We both lost a brother because of Thanos. As far as I’m concerned, that makes us friends,” Shuri says.

“Why should that make us friends? Everyone has lost someone” he asks quietly.

“Because,” says Shuri, as if it is obvious, “when you all go to kill him, I want you to make sure you he regrets ever hurting my brother for me.”

Loki lets out a humorless laugh. “It would be my pleasure.”

*

He finds Bruce and says to him, “So, I take it that you were close to Stark?”

Bruce furrows his brows, opens his mouth and closes it again. “Loki, you can’t phrase it that way. You make it sound as if he died.”

Loki shrugs, as that is still a distinct possibility. “Would you care to accompany me to wherever he may be and bring him back?”

“Oh, great, I can add another planet to the list,” Bruce says. He sounds displeased about it, which is a pity, considering how many planets there are in the universe and how they have so much more to learn that what could be gleamed on their pitiful rock.

Alas.

He holds onto Strange’s filthy clothing as he cuts through the fabric of the universe. He steps through, Bruce following shortly, and finds himself on the ruins of Titan.

“Where… are we?” Bruce says, voice quiet and awed.

“Welcome to Titan, land of Thanos’s birth,” Loki replies, equally quiet.

The realm had been dead for long. But now it is ravaged all over again. A battle had taken place recently. He can smell the smoke and magic still hanging in the air. Loki runs his hand against broken structures and winces as they come away sticky with webbing.

“I suppose the spider child was here too,” Loki says. But not anymore.

“Does this mean…” _That they have died? _Bruce can’t complete his sentence, instead pulling at his hair with a frightening intensity. Loki lays a hand on him and casts a calming charm. He would probably see through the trick shortly, but it would work for now.

“It is… distinctly possible that they have moved on,” Loki says. He kicks at burnt rubble. “It looks like there were several ships here.”

“Well that narrows it down to the rest of the universe,” Bruce says.

“Not exactly.” There, amongst the rubble, are red and gold shards of armor. He lifts one and pockets the rest, presenting his prize to Bruce.

“That’s Tony’s armor! Great,” Bruce says, laughing with delight, picking it up and holding it to the light. “Great. Let’s go get him.” He drops the armor back into Loki’s palm.

He nods and complies, cutting another hole in the universe.

They appear within a ship. “Oxygen levels are fairly low,” Loki drawls out. “Humans… need oxygen to breathe, yes?”

Bruce gives him an odd, startled look. It is difficult not to burst into laughter.

Loki lifts a hand and allows more oxygen into the vessel. “There, you won’t die now. You're welcome.”

Bruce shakes his head. “We’ve got to do something about your sense of humor.”

Loki continues to walk around. “I’ve been in this ship before.”

“Really? Weird.”

He presses his thumb against the palm of his hand. “It belongs to Rocket and his crew… if Stark, the wizard, and the spider child met with the rest of the Guardians of the Galaxy, that would be a true sight to behold.”

“They call themselves the Guardians of the Galaxy?” Bruce says with a sputter. “Isn’t that kind of pretentious?”

Loki cackles at that. “Alright, strongest Avenger.”

The ship is desolate, however, and they do not run into anyone. At least, until they happen upon the ship’s kitchen, where Stark and _Nebula_, of all people, appear to be playing a game.

“Tony!” Bruce says, all but flying onto the other man. “It’s so good to see you again.”

Nebula bares her teeth and clutches a knife. “Hello Loki.”

He smiles thinly. “Hello Nebula. What brings you to this part of the galaxy?”

“The usual sort of things,” Nebula replies evenly. “The Thanos killing sort.”

He clucks his tongue. “Ah, wonderful, it appears we’ll be working together again in the future.”

“You know each other?” asks Bruce. “That’s… nice. Where’s the other Guardians?”

“Bruce, buddy, what are you doing here with Reindeer Games?” Stark says. He’s looked better. His eyes are red rimmed, lips dry and pale. He looks as though he has lost a worrying amount of weight since 2012.

“Dead,” answers Nebula. “Gamora?”

Loki shakes his head. “Thanos killed her.”

Nebula bashes her fist against the table, denting it and sending the paper triangle to the ground. No one retrieves it.

“Loki’s on our side,” Bruce says. He gestures for Loki to approach and he does so warily. Bruce throws an arm over his shoulder and forces Loki to sit amongst them at the table. “He died, but not really? Was ruling Asgard for a while. Uh, Thor’s secret evil sister tried to destroy Asgard, but the refugees escaped, and then they were caught by Thanos—”

Nebula raises a brow, but he says nothing.

“Wait, wait, wait, you’re telling me that Thor has an evil sister _and _an evil brother,” Stark says, shaking his head. “God, he really hit the jackpot there.”

“Loki’s not evil,” Bruce says. “See?” He hugs Loki closer, like they are shield brothers. Loki stays still.

“I’m not buying it,” Stark says. “Why does he look like _that?_”

He refers to the grime and the gore that Loki had not washed away. He could cast a cleansing spell. It would be so easy. But he cannot forget the screams of so many dying, cannot forget how Thor _died_, how the dirty cape is all that is truly left of his _brother._

He takes a breath. Soon, it will all be corrected.

“Technically,” she says, allowing her form to shift. “I could have also been Thor’s evil sister.”

“Wow, didn’t know you could do that,” Bruce says, genuinely impressed. “Can you shapeshift into anything?”

She smiles mirthlessly. “I can only turn into myself.”

“Huh, actually, that seems kinda useless.”

Loki rises and pulls Gram from her side, cutting open a hole into Wakanda. She puts one leg through and waits. “Well?” she says, when no one rises to join her. “Are you coming?”

Bruce and Nebula come along first. Stark comes only after.

He pauses and says, “Wait. Could have _been _Thor’s sister?”

Loki doesn’t answer. Stark should be smart enough to figure it out on his own. She steps completely through and waits for the others to follow her. Only after Stark’s set foot out of the Guardians’ ship does the hole in reality shut.

*

_It was not intentional._

_She did not mean to tell anyone. Not Thor, not mother, not father._

_It was one thing for people to think her cowardly and unmanly, to think her ergi, for her magic. It was another for them to see that she was a woman too. A woman at times, and a man at others._

_Thor had seen her, really seen her, and fell silent. He shut the door to Loki's rooms, so that servants may not scurry in. "Should I call you sister?" he asks, very quietly. _

_In her surprise, Loki had nearly pitched her book from her lap. She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. "When you see me like this, yes."_

_Thor had nodded. He still teased Loki for her magic and knives and methods._

_But at least he did not tease Loki for who she is--liar, trickster, god of mischief._

_Mostly._

_*_

With everyone… more or less assembled, she steps back from everything.

Bruce, Shuri, and Stark should be enough brain-power to study the Soul Stone and figure out a solution to this mess. They have material too--Uru, vibranium.

When she asks around, about where one might acquire wool, about where one might find tools for creating yarn, for weaving, she is brought out to an abandoned cabin.

The goats are loud, fussy creatures. She adores them.

It takes work to shear the goats and collect heir wool. She washes and combs it by hand before spinning it into a workable ball. It would be all too easy for Loki to snap her fingers and have everything done for her. But physically doing the work is meditative.

She was told that the little house belonged to one of Thanos’s victims, a friend of the Captain. There are little bits of the house that are run down and could use some renovations.

For that, she lets her magic go wild, fixing and improving where she can.

The sunsets are beautiful. But she wishes Thor could be there.

She sets about weaving, using the yarn she had spun as the warping thread. Loki sits back and lets out a sigh. She would need more material for what she had planned.

She looks to the cape wrapped around her shoulders.

It is easy work to unwind it part way. She snips whatever she needs and washes it, stringing it up to dry. Should wouldn’t do to use dirty thread for her working, though how much it pains her to wring her hands in the copper tinged waters.

The goats watch what she’s doing, conspirators to her plans.

She smiles.

*

Loki goes to Valkyrie first, with a smile painted on her face, and a spindle in her hand.

Valkyrie looks to her suspiciously. “Just what is it?”

“I’d like to spin some thread from you,” Loki says, twisting the spindle about.

Valkyrie pauses, as if to consider it, and then says, “Very well.”

The yarn acquired from her is bright, shimmering white, the white of her uniform and her duty. It’s much softer to the touch than she could ever had imagined.

“Now we’re going to Nidavellir,” Valkyrie says, taking Loki by the wrist.

The Asgardians are happy to see their return. Loki spins thread from Eitri’s metal hands, from molten Uru metal, from the light of the dying star, from warriors and gladiators, and she hides all of it away.

She has precious few answers for the Asgardians but she brings some supplies, warm, properly fitting clothing, jars of honey, the precious sort of things one cannot acquire easily on the space station.

She listens to grievances with Valkyrie at her side and mediates several arguments.

When they return to Midgard, Loki approaches Bruce and spins thread from him, a vivid green twisted with more muted purple. She laughs at that. Even when the Hulk is mad, is frightened, it seems he is still a part of Bruce.

Shuri volunteers for it, so long as she might record the process. That is no bother to Loki as she spins fierce violent thread.

Captain America also volunteers, surprised at just how easily his perception of reality might be undone. His thread is blue, unwavering, loyal blue.

She pulls thread from people, from plants, from animals, from materials, from anything she might get her hands upon and permission from. She even remembers the lowly holly leaf, laughing mirthlessly at the pale thread it provides.

Rhodes and Rocket approach her hut when the sun begins setting. She’s bent over her simple loom, weaving the various colors.

“Whatcha doing there?” Rhodes asks, as if it isn’t obvious.

“It’s said that my mother Frigga sat at her loom and wove insights into the future,” Loki says, smiling softly. It’s likely that Frigga saw her own death foretold in her tapestries. She wonders what she might see.

Rhodes lets silence settle between them, but Rocket breaks it.

“That sounds ridiculous,” Rocket says, looking back to Rhodes for support. “That can’t be real.”

“Man, you are a talking raccoon, as far as I’m concerned, anything is possible,” Rhodes says.

Rocket waves him off.

“I’m weaving a belt,” Loki says. Already it shimmers with many colors, bright and vibrant. She needs more. “Would you care to help?”

She pulls steel grey thread from Rhodes and thread of various brown from Rocket. Neither quite know how to weave because apparently it isn’t so common a skill as Loki had expected.

Instead, they settle beside her and watch as she weaves the threads amongst the other colors.

“Looks like it’ll be a big belt,” Rocket says.

She hums.

“Listen, the science bros… and princess, I guess, are messing around with the Uru metal,” Rhodes says. “And I wanted to make sure you had another keepsake.”

He drops a piece of mjölnir into Loki’s waiting palm, the little bit that connected to the hilt.

“Thank you,” she says and falls into silence.

Only when they leave does she allow herself to examine the piece of Uru. It still smells of lightning, of magic. She smiles, soft and so very sad.

She washes herself and her leathers, letting her hair dry on its own. It’s easy to string up her hair into a high ponytail and to have the hammer fragment hold it all together.

When she looks in the mirror, she can hardly recognize herself.

It didn’t matter. Not when she still had work to do.

*

Loki spends more time weaving than not. He remembers meals, sometimes, and it’s usually only group ones either Valkyrie or Bruce and Rocket force him to attend.

No one says anything about the new hairstyle, which is good, because he would not have known what to say.

Funny, how the silver tongue becomes so tongue tied due to a little grief.

More and more heroes arrive. Captain Marvel. Ant-Man. Hawkeye. Others still. Daredevil. Luke Cage. Jessica Jones. Ironfist. He cannot decide if he prefers those heroes who have aliases or those that go by their real names.

Both sound a bit ridiculous, if he is to be honest.

There are many more heroes than he had originally seen in 2012. They've appeared due to circumstances not entirely caused by him, so he stays silent. They help to care for the world, while Loki mostly traverses between Nidavellir and Bucky's old cabin.

There is a lot of talk what to do, at least, it seems there is when Loki bothers to attend the meetings. Bruce and... _Ant_-Man are fond of the idea of a time machine. Stark favors the idea of creating another gauntlet.

All the way from the laboratories, the Soul Stone sings.

Loki scowls to himself in distaste. "Time hopping can be dangerous," he drawls. "So, I would say the plan to build another gauntlet would be less dangerous overall."

"Hopping? Like a rabbit?" Bruce asks.

Loki waves off the question. "If you aren't careful, you'll create multiple branching timelines."

"Excuse me, but why are you even here?" asks Stark.

Loki raises his brows at that. "Have you so easily forgotten? You still owe me that drink."

Stark rolls his eyes. "You're not exactly part of the science gang."

"Yeah, but magic," is Shuri's rather convincing rebuttal. "Loki gave us the Uru metal."

Or, at least, most of it, concidering the piece that holds up his hair and the piece he had spun to thread.

"If you decide to go with that path, you must return everything to how it was before you intervened, else you'll accidentally create new universes," Loki says. "Or, maybe worse, you'll unspool time."

"How... would one unspool time?" Bruce asks.

"If you create a circumstance in which the future becomes impossible, there will be... significant consequences," Loki says simply enough, a wry smile upon his face.

"Is there science backing your words?" Stark says, twirling about a pen like he would a dagger. "Or are you just saying things?"

"My specialty lies within the mystical," Loki says, not rising to the challenge. "I am simply offering my imput, as I am told that is what these conferences are held for."

"It's alright," says Rogers. "It is a concern. We... don’t want to lose anyone else."

"Right, why are you here too?" Stark says, abrasive to be abrasive. My, my, the tension between the two was spectacular. "Shouldn't you be off, saving criminals?"

Hawkeye looks at him oddly at that, having returned recently from his vacation from hero-duties. Apparently slaughter was nice this time of year.

Judge, jury, and executioner.

But at least he'd come away with a new haircut, right?

"Tony," Rogers says, raising a hand.

"Don't call me that," Stark says, irritated. He jabs the air with a finger. "You don't get to call me that, after everything."

"Tony," Rhodes says, placing a hand upon Stark's wrist and forcing it down. "We're all friends here."

"Yeah, sure, we're all friends." Stark looks at both Rogers and Loki with the same sort of distaste. How funny for Rogers to fall from whatever pedestal he'd been on. "Because friends leave friends to die in Siberia."

Nebula plays idly with a knife. "Loki and I took turns torturing each other when we were under Thanos's control."

Loki snorts. "Ah, yes, is it group therapy now? Not terribly fond of that concept. Shall we call the meeting and return to business another day?"

They don't let the petty bickering continue. Which is good. Apparently the Avengers had their own civil war earlier. That wouldn't do for defeating Thanos.

But alas.

Loki wanders off, returning to his cabin.

He doesn't eat much, sleeps less. He spends so many waking hours weaving and sitting back, trying to judge the strength of the belt. Soon the colors all come together and become inseparable, a hazy glow of them all.

It is only then that he is satisfied.

*

"So, looks like Thanos has snapped again." Shuri begins their next meeting in the worst way possible.

"There was a power surge, oh, three hours ago," Rocket says, pulling up a hologram of a planet. It's green and lush and everything Thanos does not deserve to enjoy.

"The Garden," Nebula says simply. "It's where he said he would go when his work was complete."

"How cute. Thanos had a retirement plan." Rhodes crosses his arms and leans back in his chair. "So what are we going to do?"

"Let's go to him," says Danvers, possibly the most important thing anyone of them could have said. "Let''s take the Infinity Stones from him and get everyone back."

"Just like that?" asks Rhodes.

"Just like that," says Danvers, confident, powerful, and radiant. Thor would have loved her.

"Even if there's a small chance that we can undo this, we owe it to everyone not here to try," says Romanoff.

"If we do this, how do we know that it won't end any differently than last time?" Bruce asks.

"Because before, you didn't have me," Danvers says. Oh yes, Thor would have adored her and would have wanted her to join his shield brothers and sisters.

Loki pauses, tilting his head. But how did they know what she said wasn't misplaced?

He unsheathes Gram and pierces the table with it, so that it might stand up on its own. Loki wraps his hand around the blade so it bites into the flesh of his hand. Blood drips down.

"Dude," says Rocket. "That's gross."

"When one is cut by Gram, they may not lie," Loki says. "Would you touch Gram and swear that you are telling the truth?"

Danvers cocks a brow, just barely concealing amusement. "Prince Loki with a sword that spits truth? That's an interesting choice."

He smiles, all teeth, but does not let go of the blade. Slowly, Danvers joins him, gripping the blade just slightly beneath his own hand. Her blood runs blue.

"Do you really think we can win?" he asks.

Danvers smiles easily. "Yes."

*

_“He’s just so cocky,” Loki had complained to Amora._

_Amora twisted her bright golden hair around her finger. “That is one of his charms, I’m afraid.” She said it so frankly, as though it were fact. Despite the fact that Amora was one of his closest friends and a seidr-user of high caliber, even she could not resist the Mighty Thor._

_Loki rolled his eyes, unfocused on the book of spells before him. “He rushes into battle with not a link of self preservation, Amora,” he said. “Someday it will be his doom.”_

_Her lips twisted into a wry smile. “Someday, yes, but not today,” Amora said all too lightly. “Besides, how likely is he to fall with a powerful seidr-user at his side?”_

_He preened at the compliment. “Oh Amora, you are too kind.”_

_Amora swatted him, nearly setting him sprawling to the ground. “Not you, Loki!” she said, devolving into laughter. “But me.” Magic swirled about his fingers in flashes of gold and green._

_Loki tutted his tongue. “Vanity again,” he reminded her. “You’ll make yourself out to be better than what you are.”_

_“Oh the sweet words that slip from your honeyed lips,” Amora said dryly. “Remind me why I spend time with you?”_

_“Because,” Loki said, ignoring how Amora took the book before him and began to examine it. “Because I’m the easiest method by which to get close to Thor.”_

_Amora laughed and dropped the book. _

_*_

Nebula gives him coordinates and he cuts open a hole in reality.

"No matter how many times I see you do that, it's still weird," says Rocket.

"You've seen weirder," Valkyrie says. He _is _weirder, but Valkyrie does them all a curtesy by not pointing it out.

The planet is lush with life. Plentiful. Ripe fruit hang from trees, bowing their branches with their weight. There are insects, creeping, fluttering, and small animals too. Birds that eat the insects, with bright plumage and loud calls. Small, mammal-like things with more limbs than he would have expected.

He lets his fingers trace the fabric of the belt, taking comfort in all he had woven into it. He had placed the Soul Stone within the fabric and hidden it with an illusion.

No one had noticed the change but Valkyrie, and she keeps her mouth shut.

Danvers, or Captain Marvel, as she's called, hangs in the air, pulsing with power. "No ships, no satellites, no defense system, no armies. It's just him."

"And that's enough," Nebula says slowly.

They walk right up to Thanos's cabin and find him sitting within. Danvers knocks him down. Bruce, wearing Stark's ridiculous armor, grabs onto Thanos's gauntleted arm and does not let go. Everyone aims their weapons at him.

Loki pulls Gram from its sheathe and cuts Thanos's arm from the rest of his body. It rolls away, leaving spurts of violet blood.

Rocket kicks it over, snearing at the five gems embeded within. The metal has coroded. Incredible. Even with Uru metal, Thanos had suffered wounds.

Loki bends over, taking it into his hands and examines it.

"The universe required correction," Thanos drawls out, a sorry excuse for an explanation. "And now the stones only serve for temptation."

"Temptation? To undo what you did?" Bruce spits. "You murdered trillions."

The Space Stone comes easily out. He embeds it onto the belt and waits. It shimmers but accepts the power.

"Buddy," Rocket says, nose twitching. "What are you doing?"

He works faster. The Mind Stone comes next. It's familiar. Then the Reality Stone. Then the Time Stone. Then the Power Stone.

Everyone watches him now.

"Now wait a second, Reindeer Games," Stark has the nerve to say, his palm alit and ready to fire.

Rogers puts a hand on Stark's wrist. "Loki," he tries, still thinking that they have anything in common, that they could be _friends_. "Take off the belt."

“You know what I must do,” Loki says simply.

Roger’s brows furrow. And then he does a strange thing. Rogers nods and says, “Alright. Do what you have to do.”

Stark protests vocally, but Loki doesn’t care.

He snaps his fingers.

"What... what did you do?" asks Rocket, ears flat against his skull.

Loki smiles mirthlessly and waves a hand, transporting the Avengers back to Midgard, leaving only Valkyrie, Nebula, and Rocket behind.

Thanos looks at him oddly. When he opens his mouth, Nebula strikes, cutting off his head. She tosses it to the ground and spits upon it.

She looks up, meeting his eyes. "What's next?"

*

They collect the Guardians' ship, the Benatar, from where it had been floating, dead in space. Rocket and Nebula do quick repairs. Loki holds it all together with a little magic. And Valkyrie paces anxiously.

They cruise to the remnants of the Statesman.

It's a sea of bodies, floating between the stars. Here, Valkyrie looks away.

He cannot, mustn't.

He waves his hand and moves all the bodies back inside the vessel and repairs the damage that Thanos had wrought to the ship. Another snap and their deaths have been undone, thousands of breaths taken all at once.

Loki does not notice the blood that drips over the curve of his lip until Valkyrie points it out.

He wipes it away and smiles. "It's nothing," he lies.

The Space Stone takes the Statesman to Nidavellir, where the most of the Asgardians wait. He does not know yet if Thor would like to continue with his plan and bring them all to Midgard or not yet, so he leaves this be.

They go to Titan first and collect Quill, Mantis, and Drax.

He turns away from such tearful reuinions.

Nebula approaches him anyway. "We are still missing somebody."

Loki twists his lips in a wry smile. "I don't suppose you mind reconvining with the sapling on Midgard?"

Nebula does not even blink. "Gamora."

He clucks his tongue. "Yes, yes."

"We need her," Nebula insists. "She's my _sister_."

And oh, he understands.

*

_She had to pick between Thor and Amora. It was a difficult choice, surprisingly. There were not many seidr-users around his age who thought her silver tongue anything but a nuisance. _

_And so Amora was chained and brought low, into the depths of the dungeons. _

_Her eyes at stared hatefully back at Loki, never once looking away._

_Thor’s hand had been heavy upon Loki’s shoulder, bringing him out of his thoughts. “What ails you, sister, when all is well?” Thor asked, a layer of mirth coated heavily over his true feelings._

_She could laugh at it all. “I betrayed my friend for you,” she said simply, letting poison drip. Of course she was angry, bitter. She had thought she meant more than a means by which Amora could enchant Thor._

_Apparently she had been wrong._

_“We’ll always be siblings, always at each other’s side. Know your place, sister,” Thor said, bristling. “And Amora betrayed you first.”_

_*_

Vormir is cold and twisted, with raging clouds and seas. Valkyrie follows at his side as they climb up the tallest mountain. The rest of the Guardians follow behind shortly, chattering.

Always chattering.

It seems that they do not know how to be quiet.

"Welcome," a wraith says. His body is mist, his cloak billowing behind him. He does not walk, but simply floats. "Loki, Child of Frigga, Child of Odin, Child of Laufey, Child of Fárbauti. Valkyrie, Chooser of the Slain. Peter, Son of Meredith. Drax, Husband of Hovat. Rocket Raccoon, being of experimental creation. Nebula, daughter of Thanos. Mantis, daughter of Ego."

"Are you done yet, buddy?" Rocket says, aiming his blaster at the wraith's red skull. "Because I'm done."

"Who are you?" asks Drax.

"Consider me a guide," says the wraith. "My duty was to guide those seeking the Soul Stone."

Loki displays the Soul Stone upon his belt. "As you can see, you've been relieved of that duty for a while."

The wraith pauses. "If you already have the stone, then what do you come here for?"

"Before, a soul was traded for the stone," Loki says. "Now I would like to trade a stone for a soul."

The wraith considers this for a while. He turns and continues up the mountain, to its very peak.

Loki removes the Soul Stone and hands it to Nebula.

She drops it over the cliff's edge, and into the pool of water below.

*

Loki restores the Power Stone to the Nova Corps first. It's easy to use the Reality Stone to repair some of the damage wrought.

He and Valkyrie find themselves on Titan next, where Strange and the spiderling are just waking up.

"You left us before," Strange says, brows furrowed.

"I thought you were dead," Valkyrie says, rather tonelessly.

Strange sputters and grows red.

Loki does not reply, but simply smiles and returns the Time Stone to him. They all go together to Midgard. He delivers the Mind Stone to Shuri, along with the request to retore Vision. She's delighted at that.

"Finally, something to do," she says, folding her hands behind her head and reclining in her chair. "The Avengers are looking for you."

Loki smiles sharply and holds a finger to his lips. "Well, let's keep this our secret for now."

He returns the Reality Stone to its crevase between realms, between realities, accessible only during the Convergence.

"Won't the Dark Elfs take it back?" Valkyrie asks.

"I'm fairly sure Thor killed Malekith."

"And where were you?"

"Hmm... I think I was dead for the second time."

Valkyrie laughs. "Of course you were." She pauses. "Where exactly do you plan on leaving the Space Stone?"

It is the only thing left on his belt, bright blue against the multicovered weave.

"I'm thinking of keeping it," he says mildly.

"So, where now?" Valkyrie asks.

He traces a line against the Space Stone's surface. "To wherever Thor is."

*

_“I’m sorry, sister.”_

_“What are you sorry for?”_

_Thor was quiet for a moment. Likely thinking. “For saying such things when you were grieving the loss of a friend.”_

_“She isn’t dead.” Loki sulked from beneath furs and blankets. She rubbed blearily at her eyes._

_“But she is lost to you.”_

_“So? She never mattered,” Loki huffed. “What matter is that you aren’t lost. That she didn’t make you her thrall.”_

_And Thor laughed, like it was funny in any way. “Lucky us, then.”_

_*_

New Asgard is cold. But the people are red cheeked and smiling. The houses smell of honey and of fresh baked bread. Sleipnir strolls about, unencumbered by the weight of a saddle, all eight hooves striking ground confidently.

There is no castle, no throne, no treasure room.

Thor greets Valkyrie and Loki when they arrive, hugging them close. "Brother, Valkyrie," he says, so very warmly, "welcome home."

*

*

*


End file.
